Memento
by sphinxofthenile
Summary: Most often the things that come back from our past to haunt us are the ones we want to forget the most. RufusxKadajxReno, proper warnings inside


**Disclaimer:**** I don't own, SE does. No monetary gain, etc.**

**Warning: **_**alcohol, threesome, dubious consent, implied past abuse, yaoi (m/m)**_

**A/N:**** This piece has been torturing me for days now. I didn't want it to be like this. I've never written anything like this before. Managed to depress even myself. I suffered writing this. But once the idea formed in my head, I just had to. And now that it's done, I feel so relieved, I'm almost happy. **

**For the beta reading thanks (and cookies) go to Andrannath. **

* * *

_I won't show mercy on you now  
'cause you have turned into my worst enemy  
You carry hate that I don't feel Why, why does fate make us suffer?  
There's a curse between us, between me and you_

_What have you done_

_What have you done now?!_

_/Within Temptation – What have you done/_

He walks in, hips swaying, mouth in a twisted little smile, and brings down the two Turks in no time, but that has nothing to do with the sickening feeling that suddenly grips at Rufus' guts with icy fingers.

He knows this face. He knows it and he suddenly remembers…

* * *

It's the President's birthday. The party is pompous and tasteless, and Rufus hates it. The sweet, poisonous smiles, the disgusting flattery and false respect.

He grabs another glass filled with champagne and drinks, though his head already feels heavier and lighter at the same time. He had lost count somewhere around the fifth, and it's one of the rare occasions when he just doesn't care.

He walks out to the balcony and looks down. Laid out before him is the city he knows one day will be just one of his toys. Feeling sick to his stomach, he gulps down the remaining champagne, and the delicate glasswork under his fingers tempts him to shatter it.

He just puts it down on the handrail.

„In a foul mood, are we?" He hears the low chuckle from behind, and he knows exactly who's there, but still he turns around to face the Turk leaning to the doorframe.

He's past the point of giving a damn about the whole mingle, the protocol or his own reputation. The alcohol runs warmly in his veins, dulling his senses and inhibitions, and he crosses the distance between them in a heartbeat, and crashes his lips to Reno's, then chuckles when he hears him moan as he pulls away.

„My office, now," he whispers into a delicate ear as his fingers trace a crimson tattoo.

„Oh, but I just started to enjoy myself," the redhead purrs, words a little slurred.

Rufus bites down on a soft earlobe, causing a sharp intake of breath. „Now," he whispers again, sweetly, playfully even. But Reno knows better than to try and object that voice and follows him to the elevators.

The moment the door closes behind them, they are already kissing again, hands tearing at the other's clothes, getting tangled in messy hair and grabbing at taut muscles. The sound of heavy breathing, sighs, moans and gasps fill the small cabin accompanied by the rustle of clothes and the small wet noises of lips meeting and tongues caressing.

Rufus reaches out and blindly pushes a button or more. The building is empty anyways; no one works so late in the night, and any unoccupied office is satisfactory enough as long as he can have his way.

They stumble out of the elevator, shirts already hanging open and fingers tugging at belts and waistlines of pants. Rufus reaches into his pocket and finally gets hold of his cardkey and opens the nearest door, pushes the redhead inside, and makes sure they are safely locked in.

Rufus pushes Reno into the nearest wall then, hands groping, caressing, gripping. The Turk's shirt drops to the ground, and the blonde's eager fingers deftly undo the pants too, sucking on tender flesh and loving the way his lover moans.

But before his hand could slide beneath the fabric, Reno stills and halts his movement. Rufus groans, he's so _not_ in the mood for games right now, but the Turk's words keep him from getting more forceful.

„Someone's here."

'Impossible,' Rufus wants to snap at him, but suddenly he can hear it too; a faint noise coming from where he suspects the other end of the room. Reno slips out of the embrace and, a moment later, white light floods the place, and as Rufus blinks a few times to get his eyes adjust, Reno passes him by and he can hear him chuckle.

„My, my, look what we have here."

Rufus notes with distant surprise that the room is not an office. There is a metal table in the middle, some shelves at the walls and a locker. Otherwise, nothing. Nothing, except for the two blankets on the ground in the farthest corner, and the boy who looks up at them from the makeshift bed.

Reno steps closer to him, grabbing his chin and tilting his head towards himself, a wolfish grin on his kiss swollen lips.

„And what a pretty little thing," he purrs in a dangerous tone.

Rufus has to admit he's right. The boy is beautiful like a doll, with creamy white skin, emerald eyes and silver hair falling back from his face. There is something vaguely familiar about him, but the feeling quickly dissolves in a hot wave of arousal as he watches Reno lean in and crash his mouth to those pale lips.

He just stands there and watches as those green eyes widen, but no protest comes. Reno's hand travels to grab at the nape of the other's neck, deepening the forceful kiss, and it earns a groan from Rufus, the sight just too damn hot to be ignored. His hands travel down his abdomen to undo the pants that are far too tight for his liking at the moment, and the blonde shivers as the cool outside air seeps under his clothes.

Reno pulls away, a wide grin on his face, and he whispers into a delicate ear sweetly, sinfully, index finger tracing plump lips wetted with saliva. „Now, off with those clothes, beautiful."

To Rufus' utter astonishment, the boy doesn't say a word, eyes blank, those of a doll, dead, empty, staring into nothingness as he stands up and does as he was told. His movements are practiced, automatic, as if he had done it countless times, and his hands are trembling.

Rufus suddenly doesn't feel as pleasant as moment ago, but he can't remember why. Then the milky white skin of that slender body is revealed, and it just ceases to matter. He feels himself practically salivating as the two pale chests are plastered together and Reno's hands and lips go wandering.

Before he notices it, he moves and ends up behind that excitingly unfamiliar body, lips pressed to one invitingly round shoulder, hands resting on slim hips. He kisses a slow trail up that beautiful neck, and his lips meet Reno's in a heated kiss. The change between foreign and familiar, familiar and foreign taste is maddening.

He licks at the delicate jaw-line, feels the tendons in the white throat flex as he sucks on the sensitive spot just below the ear. He feels the slender body in his arms shiver. A quick downward glance, and Rufus' eyes widen, then fall shut as he feels as though every drop of blood in his system is rushing to his groin.

Reno is on his knees, hands working on pulling the tight leather pants of the boy further down, teasing the smooth skin of the hips with small kitten licks, and Rufus immediately opens his eyes again, waiting with a hungry fire to his eyes for what he knows is about to come.

The grin stays etched to the Turk's face even as he parts his lips, relaxes his throat and takes everything in, swallowing hard, and Rufus moans as if it was his own throbbing member engulfed by that wonderful heat.

The silver head falls back on his shoulder with a startled gasp, eyes shut, jaw clenched, and Rufus instinctively tightens his hold, one arm across the boy's chest, the other sliding to cup his face as he places small kisses on the velvet temple. Narrow hands grip at his supporting arm and finally a small sound, barely more than a sigh, escapes those kissable lips, and Rufus just can't hold back any longer.

With a moan, he grinds his hips into the heat of the other body and catches a glimpse of Reno's knowing little smirk, then the Turk withdraws, reaches around and slowly starts to slide down Rufus' pants. It hits the floor with a quiet thump, and soon the others follow suit. Rufus shrugs off his already unbuttoned shirt, and as they all come down on the ground, he feels slick fingers encircling him.

Reno gives him a mischievous „you can thank me later" wink, and Rufus' eyes roll back behind his eyelids as the expert fingers stroke him, slicking him up nicely. It all feels like a dream, except that Rufus' dreams are never good, and this goes beyond that definition.

He pulls Reno into another heated kiss, one arm still encircling the boy's waist, and their heads slightly bump together from the sudden movement. Rufus pulls back, and laughs. Reno shoots him a questioning look, but he doesn't care. He buries his head in a creamy white shoulder and laughs until he doesn't know why he is laughing.

He places a sloppy kiss on the very same shoulder, then pulls the silver-haired boy in his lap, fingers slowly entering, feeling him tense up instantly. He nibbles on an earlobe, whispering things that make little sense, but feel so sweet on his tongue like melting fudge.

It registers in his shrouded brain that Reno is kneeling before them, but he doesn't care anymore. He feels light-headed and so needy, it takes his breath away. He removes his fingers and pushes in, no gentleness this time, and his hips start rocking on their own accord.

The velvet heat clenching him is so delicious, the silk skin under his fingers so tantalising, and he is lost in the sensations, closing his eyes and letting everything go as it is supposed to be. It's fast, it's hard, it's so satisfying…

He can hear his heart pound, his own heavy breathing, the soft gasps pouring from those pale lips, he can smell rain and sweat, and with a last powerful thrust, he falls over the edge. A sharp cry, hips suspended motionless for a moment in time, and he falls back, resting against the wall, arms holding tightly, and nothing, absolutely _nothing_ can bother him now.

When his eyes finally flutter open, he sees a very sated-looking Turk with a lazy smile on his lips, and two emerald eyes staring at him, now not blank, but still unreadable. Slender fingers come to rest on his face, the touch feather light, and it's the last thing Rufus remembers.

* * *

Rufus opens his eyes and stares into the same perfect face, the same burning eyes, and feels sick, so sick it burns. He wishes he could erase it, all of it, but he knows it is futile. He can rebuild ruined houses. He can grant food on the tables and he can do so much more, but even he can't negate the cruel touch of his hand, the trail of his lips and the invisible scars left in their wake.

Rufus Shinra looks up into the mako eyes and lies.


End file.
